


Take me back to when...

by BlackWolf105



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Introspection, Sort Of Fluff, idk how to tag this, sort of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 00:09:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWolf105/pseuds/BlackWolf105
Summary: Root isn't Samantha GrovesSamantha Groves never watched a girl get into a car, never watched as the one person to call her friend disappeared.





	Take me back to when...

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from Ed Sheeran's Castle on the Hill, which I was listening to when I wrote this.  
> So I'm really sort of uncomfortable with this, its really different from anything I've ever written, and if it weren't for SylviaNightshade, I probably wouldn't be posting it.  
> So, anyway, comments and kudos are appreciated!   
> Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!

“Next.”

Root glanced up from her phone as she approached the counter, smiling politely at the bored looking teenager standing at the register.

“Just a large hot chocolate.” With a smile, she handed over the credit card in her hand, smiling as the teen rang it up.

It had been a long night; a thirty-six hour night to be exact, and all Root wanted was to get her drink, get home, and curl up with Sameen, who was, without a doubt, already asleep in their bed. Unfortunately, after finishing up with the number, Root had had to remain behind with Harold to make sure the man’s digital footprint was entirely erased, and so while Sameen was able to get home and fall sleep hours ago, Root had been forced to remain.

“And the name?”

She paused for a second, her tired brain wondering what alias to give today, before opening her mouth. “It’s-”

“Sam? Sam Groves?”

Root froze; every muscle in her body tensing as she turned around, towards the unfamiliar voice which had spoken.

She found herself facing a man, who, if Root had to guess, was probably about her own age. He was few inches taller than her, probably about 5’11”, with short brown hair, eyes to match, and a grin which only grew as she faced him.

“God, I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure.” He spoke with a drawl, one which Root would recognize anywhere; after all, she’d spent _years_ trying to get rid of it.

“Excuse me?” Blinking, Root twisted her head, facing the, now annoyed, teen. “I need a name for the order. Is it Sam?”

“Umm...” Root blinked again, her eyes flickering towards the man standing beside her, still grinning, before shaking her head, “Yeah, sorry.” She smiled sheepishly at him. “It’s been a night.”

The teen merely grunted, thrusting the credit card back at her.

“Man. Of all the places I thought I’d see you again, coffee shop in New York City was not on my list, huh?” Root nodded, her tired mind frantically trying to figure out who exactly this man was; clearly he knew who _she_ was – or more accurately, who she had _been_ – which meant he was someone from Bishop, but Root couldn’t for the life of her put a name to the face; which really wasn’t a surprise considering she hadn’t thought about Bishop since, at twenty-two, she packed her bags and disappeared, not once looking back.

“Daniel Reyborn, remember?” Apparently the man noticed her confusion, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t, after all, it _has_ been like what, fifteen years?”

Root nodded.

He opened his mouth, before simply letting out a huff with a smile and shake of his head. “God, I can’t believe it; _fifteen_ years.” He smiled again, “Time really does fly, huh?”

“Sam?” Root startled as she heard the barista call her order.

Turning, she took the warm cup from the woman’s hand with what felt like a mechanical smile.

When she was once again facing Daniel, she found him watching her with smile.

“Anyway, what do you do, now?”

Root coughed slightly, taking a drink from the hot chocolate in her hand to buy herself some time to think of an answer.

“I, uh, I’m a software engineer.”

Daniel looked impressed, his eyebrows raising, mouth opening in surprise. “Wow, that’s pretty impressive.” He grinned at her again, “Though, I suppose you were always pretty good with computers, huh?” He laughed, shaking his head. “God, I remember all those times I’d go into the library, find you and Hannah at those damn computers.” His face fell slightly as he spoke, and he finished with an almost sad smile. “They found her you know. Hannah.”

Root nodded, her jaw tightening as she felt the familiar tugging in her chest at the mention of her childhood friend. “Yeah. I heard.”

He nodded, his eyes drifting far away, the two standing in silence. Finally he smiled, letting out a sigh.

“Anyway, you look busy,” he smiled at her, “and I have a meeting to get to, but it was uh, good to see you again, Sammy.”

Root nodded. “Yeah, you too.”

With a final smile, he left, leaving her alone in a crowd of strangers.

***

Root closed her eyes briefly, feeling the warmth from the sun on her face as she paused at a crosswalk. She knew she should be heading back to her apartment; only minutes ago she was exhausted, barely able to stand up straight as she anxiously waited for the second she could collapse onto her bed, wrap her arms around Sameen, and close her eyes.

Now though, her body felt tired, but her mind was racing, full of memories, regrets, what if’s.

In all her years, in all her travels, Root had never once encountered someone from Bishop – which, when thinking about it, wasn’t all that surprising; the town barely had a population of five thousand. And here, here in New York City of all places, just waiting in a coffee shop, it happened.

_They found her you know. Hannah._

As if Root hadn’t heard, as if she hadn’t known for years what had happened.

As if she hadn’t done anything about it when it did.

In a way, she supposed she hadn’t. She didn’t give the cops the Trent Russel’s name, she didn’t check to make sure they got the license plate right, she didn’t walk Hannah home.

Someone shoved past her, and Root realized that people were starting to cross, and looking after them, standing still on the sidewalk, gazing across the seemingly endless sea of people and cars, she tried to find it within herself to step forward, to head toward the apartment, toward home.

Everything changed the day that Hannah Frey disappeared; and when she died, pieces of Samantha Groves had as well, dying and falling away until  there was hardly anything left, and Root had taken her place.

***

But Root isn’t Samantha Groves.

Samantha Groves never watched a girl get into a car, never watched as the one person to call her friend disappeared.

Samantha Groves never learned to steal, to kill; never learned what sort of monsters lurked beneath people’s skin, beneath her own.

She never ran away, never learned of the Machine, never met a man named Harold Finch or John Reese.

Never met a woman named Sameen Shaw. Never lost her, nor fought to get her back.

Never spoke of simulations, of bad code and good code, of dogs named Bear or causes worth dying for, of somedays.  

 

Samantha Groves grew up troubled, but happy; innocent.

She went to high school, Hannah looking out for her every step of the way.

They had parties, and crushes, and secrets – although never from each other.

She watched as Hannah graduated, hugged her at the party; laid on the sum warmed grass, empty bottles of beer sitting at their feet as they talked about the future, about college, about boys, about the lives they wanted to lead.

She graduated top of her class, full ride scholarship to M.I.T., with those plans still in mind.

She met thousands of people, dated hundreds, married one. Had kids, a job, a family.

She loved and was loved; lived loved and died loved, her gravestone marked with her name and lived in the memories of those she’d known.

 

Root never graduated high school.

 She never had a friend to look out for her, to protect her, to laugh with her, to keep secrets with but never from.

She never hugged anyone at their graduation. Never sat on the grass, talking about the future or crushes or lives. Rather she spoke with one’s and zero’s to machines which couldn’t talk back.

She met thousands of people, and killed hundreds. Had no kids, had no job.

 

But she had a family. It was strange, and tense, and fun, and hard, and everything Root didn’t know she’d ever wanted.

For the first time in her life, she had a home; one with a bed and couch and someone to sleep with, to wake up with, to have the good times and the bad times and the sad times.

She had a father, one who cared about her, albeit in his own, strange way. 

Two brothers to tease and torment, and to shove away, smile on her face, when they did it back.

It had taken a lot of pain and loss and hardship to get there, and she’d lost herself along the way, but she’d finally found the people who could bring her back.

She was happy.

***

She stepped off the sidewalk.

She headed home.


End file.
